Undone (A Country Roads Novel) by Shannon Richard

and put the thick strap of her camera around her neck. She stared at the tree for a couple of minutes and tried to figure out how she wanted to capture it. She held the camera up to her eye, focusing in on the tree, and started snapping picture after picture. She stayed at it for almost thirty minutes, moving around the tree slowly. When she finished, she headed back to her car and noticed that the front right tire was flat.
    *  *  *
    “B.K., phone’s for you.”
    Brendan turned his head to see a pair of dirty work boots appear next to the car.
    “Can’t you see that I’m underneath a car?” Brendan asked, scooting out and looking up into Wallace’s face.
    “Yes, I can. But she specifically asked for you.”
    “She?” he asked, getting up so fast he almost banged his head on the bumper.
    “She didn’t give me a name,” Wallace called out as Brendan practically sprinted into the office.
    “This is Brendan,” he said, picking up the receiver.
    The other end of the line was silent before he heard a shaky intake of breath.
    “It’s Paige.”
    “What’s up?” he asked, unable to control the smile that quickly spread across his face.
    “I, uh, I have a flat tire.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Ocean Oak Park.”
    “And you don’t know how to change a flat?” he asked, trying not to sound amused.
    There was another moment of hesitation.
    “No. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be of any good to me.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Because I don’t have a spare.”
    “I’ll be there in five,” he said and hung up the phone. He grabbed some sodas and a bag from the fridge. “Wallace, I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, walking out to his truck and throwing his stuff into the passenger seat. He jogged back to the shop and found a tire big enough to work for a spare for her Jeep and threw it into the bed of his truck.
    Things had a funny way of working out sometimes. All morning Brendan had been going over reasons that he could stop by the funeral home and see Paige, each excuse lamer than the last. But he was at the point where he didn’t care how lame he was. He liked her and he wanted to see her.
    *  *  *
    When Brendan pulled into the shade of the park he saw Paige sitting on top of a picnic table. She was staring down at the screen of her camera, biting the corner of her lip. She looked up at the tree and then back down to her camera, shaking her head. Brendan pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, grabbed his loot, and got out of his truck. When he slammed the door shut she looked over at him. She turned her camera off and shoved it into a bag that was on the table.
    “Hey,” she said, standing up and brushing the back of her orange dress down before she started walking toward him.
    “Hi,” he said, walking past her and sitting down on top of the picnic table.
    “What are you doing?” she asked, spinning around and looking at him. “My Jeep’s over there.”
    “Yes,” he said, grabbing a Coke and popping the top. “But lunch is over here.”
    “I thought you were going to change my flat,” she said, frowning.
    “I am, after I eat lunch. Care to join me?” he asked, patting the empty space next to him.
    “You’re serious?”
    “Paige, it’s almost one o’clock, so I’m going to eat. You can either stand there and watch me, or you can split this Cajun turkey sandwich that my grandmother made,” he said, taking the sandwich out of the bag.
    She shook her head and smiled.
    “You, Brendan King, are a whole mess of trouble,” she said, walking over to the bench and sitting down next to him.
    “Good choice,” he said handing her half. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, taking a bite of his half of the sandwich.
    “Taking pictures.”
    “For?”
    “The tribute program that Mr. Adams wants to start using during the memorial services. He wants to use local pictures instead of the stock pictures that are already in the program.”
    “That sounds like it’s right